


There Are Pieces Of Us, Under Every City Light

by conshellation



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, idk - Freeform, this is quite personal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:23:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conshellation/pseuds/conshellation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>with watching the city lights of london, ashton realizes just how much his friends mean to him</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Are Pieces Of Us, Under Every City Light

**Author's Note:**

> based on a real friendship group so some parts won't be true or accurate to the characters i'm using (in which case 5sos)  
> every word of this fic came from a true experience so idk this is quite a personal thing to share with this many people

It’s cold, but Ashton barely feels it anymore. They’d abandoned the reasonable warmth of the bus ten minutes ago, and being early January anyway, the constant drop in temperature wasn’t something he’d even take any notice of anymore.

Plus, there are plenty of distractions available.

The first distraction is something Ashton fails to take his eyes off; glancing up at the sky several times even though Michael and Calum are walking at a pace that requires his concentration if he’s planning to keep up with them.

It’s a star.

Nothing he’s seen before; he lives in the middle of the  _country,_  for the love of god. It’s a frequency in his own night sky nearly every evening since he can remember, and if he was back home he wouldn’t even bother to look up once, let alone for this amount of time.

But he’d been living under the obvious impression that Central London is certainly no stargazing hotspot, and even this one star is surrounded by the omnipresent clouds looming above him, tinged orange with light pollution. Having listened to many of Calum’s complaints that, being raised in the city, the only opportunities he gets to see the stars is if he’s on holiday or visiting a friend living in the country (Ashton smiles at the memory of them both standing in his back garden underneath one of the clearest skies he can remember.) so seeing the sky as clear as this isn’t something he’d been expecting, especially considering Calum is from origins so urban when asked as a child where milk came from, replied ‘Tesco’ instead of from cows.

The next distraction is having to make sure he’s alert all the time in order to avoid getting hit by one of the hundreds of cars hurtling down the road dividing the enormous circular stretch of grass they’re making their way down. Due to the dimming light of the late afternoon, the only feature of any form of traffic he can recognize are the headlights; gliding into the approaching darkness that reminds Ashton of how aeroplanes flying through the black sky are visible from their flashing lights, and not the vapour trails.

He shakes the vehicle-themed train of thought out of his mind as he settles for the third distraction, walking alongside Calum and Michael, who’s currently taking charge of holding the phone being used for a facetime call to Luke, and although he’s unable to physically be there, despite the occasional pausing and freezing, it feels just as real, and comfortable, and natural as it would be if he could manage to join them.

Catching a glimpse of Luke before he pauses the call again, Ashton feels more wistful than upbeat. Having studied Geography for two years (although spending the majority of those two years whining about wishing he took History instead) he’d spent more time than he’d care to admit sighing at the throngs of roads, fields, houses, cities, lakes, towns and small villages separating Sussex from Devon, Wales, and London. (Especially consider Wales is a totally different fucking  _country_  in itself.) He often hopes his Geography teacher hasn’t noticed him and assumed he’s really emotional about the classroom poster of the UK map he finds himself staring at instead of completing his horrendously overdue coursework. Although if she did, it’s not exactly as if she’s going to ask why. Now  _that_ would be a challenge to explain; “sorry I’m getting emo over your map, it’s just the fact it reminds me of all my best friends who are named after Geographical locations!”

Maybe he’ll keep it to himself for now. Oh, and he’ll try to stop tweeting contextless exclamations of “WHERE’S WALES” as if he really _did_ have no concept whatsoever of Geography. He doesn’t consider enough how strange it must actually be to people outside of their friendship groups, which tells him he needs to start using his separate twitter account specially dedicated to the four of them.

They approach a large driveway which Ashton assumes is the entrance to Greenwich park. The light from the sky really is beginning to wash away now, so he apologises to Luke if he has to spend a few minutes talking to a black screen with a voice while he tries to find a row of streetlights to walk under. (Although it’s probably okay, because at various times, Luke’s facetime is also problematic in terms of spontaneously turning black without the aid of sunsets or lack of streetlights.)

Calum had promised to take them to see the city lights, after enthusing how incredible they looked from Greenwich park, which Ashton hears is a famous observatory and probably explains the fairly busy number of camera-holders and small crowds also in their company.

Having no experience with watching a city at night apart from New York at 4am when he was twelve (which he can’t remember much of at the best of times) and the view of London from Alexandra Palace after a convention in the summer, his attention is grabbed as the trees surrounding them begin gradually dispersing, and the lights glitter behind the intricate silhouettes of the branches, eventually exposing the London skyline running about 180 degrees around them.

Saying it puts the view of his own small, inferior town from the hill overlooking it to shame, is a ridiculous understatement.

He opens his mouth in order to comment, although he isn’t exactly surprised at his inability to say anything. He notices the captivation’s spread to Michael and Calum either side of them, and even Luke, miles away from them, has gone quiet. With a view as spectacular as this, perhaps words aren’t needed.

His eyes trail over to his right, his gaze fixing on the O2 arena and noticing how it had lit up in order to be visible along with the rest of the concrete galaxy, artificial light sparkling in every tower, building, shop and house Ashton’s eyes can register after they’d left it in the daylight. He finds it fairly difficult to comprehend how something that had required a fairly long bus journey plus a walk leaving his feet aching with every step (he doesn’t exercise often) could seem so close to them; nearly within touching distance. He knows London has a pretty famous reputation for having landmarks a mile journey away when it barely looks as if it could take more than ten minutes, and looking at the arena and reflecting on the journey required in order to take them here is the perfect example.

It’s when his eyes travel to the facetime call with Luke, he’s suddenly aware that this is _another_  perfect example. For the majority of the time they’d been talking to him for, he hadn’t even registered that hundreds of miles, and all the roads, cities, human lives, houses, and whatever else he thinks about while staring at the map, separates them. He doesn’t understand how that’s even possible when they feel as if Luke’s nowhere else other than _there_ , with them, appreciating London’s inner beauty exposed at nightfall.

He can’t comprehend how this is an everyday view for Calum. He has this on  _demand,_ and when Ashton asks if he visits often, he isn’t at all surprised to be answered with “Oh, yes.”. He can’t really understand anyone living in London who doesn’t do this regularly. If  _he_  lived here, you’d never find him anywhere else.

-

The second place they go to watch the city is more peaceful than Greenwich Park, and as they approach the fence cornering off a large, grassy hill, Calum tells them how no-one knows about this area.

Ashton likes this idea. The idea that this is their place; their secret, somewhere only  _they_ know about. (The only downfall being that the Shard is in a disgustingly better fucking view than before.) He hopes one day, when they’re all together without the worry of dodgy internet and low phone battery, that they can come here; where he can hear no noise other than their own voices, Luke’s voice on the other side of the call, and the constant roar of life in the city below them. Their city.

“Do you find it strange how you’re looking over 8.4 million people right now?” Calum breaks the brief silence amongst them, and yes. Ashton can’t think of anything stranger; the fact that in one fixed place, with only two naked eyes, he’s watching over  _8.4 million separate lives_.

“It’s so still, but so alive.” Michael adds thoughtfully, before pausing. “It’s like an ant’s nest.”

“What the  _fuck_?” Calum giggles, and so do Ashton and Luke.

Although as unusual as the simile may be, it’s kind of accurate.

And the fact that it is, is even stranger.

Ashton isn’t aware of how much time has passed before Calum speaks up again.

“Before today, I was so worried this was going to be awkward between us.” He confesses, and it’s only then Ashton’s reminded that this is the first time he’s properly talked to Luke and Michael for this long (well, he’s met Michael before for about two minutes in the summer, but he doesn’t count that). He never even considered it, because for all he knew, they might as well have known eachother for  _years_  as opposed to hours. That’s what it feels like.

“I was so worried I was going to be the third wheel.” Ashton admits, yesterday’s worries of being left out considering how long Calum and Michael have known eachother for seeming ridiculous to him now.

“So did I.” Michael agrees quietly, and Ashton’s surprised to hear that.

He rests his head on his hands, leaning on the fence and feeling the warmth of Calum’s gloves on his cheek. He smiles contentedly, the view of the city seeming slightly different every time he looked at it as he notices something new everytime. That’s kind of how he feels anyway, regardless of applying it to viewing London or not. He feels as if he’s still learning new things about his best friends; despite having known Calum for nearly a year, now. He’s still noticing little quirks, habits, phrases, characteristics and features making them totally and completely unique, and, to Ashton at least, even more lovable.

Maybe it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone for, or how much history you carry behind you. What matters is what they mean to you now. And today has certainly opened Ashton’s eyes to the fact that they can’t possibly mean  _more_  to him. From the very first day they made the group chat that changed everything, all the times the night had drawn to 2am and they’d declare their undying friendship totally forgetting about school the next morning, until now, they honestly mean the entire world to him, from every city light, down to the very last bikini emoji on Michael’s twitter. They’re his best friends, an escape from reality and the people he has to deal with on a daily basis, as if the group chat is their secret place, away from everyone, somewhere they can just be  _themselves_ , and nothing more. Somewhere they can all turn to despite the miles separating them physically.

Because regardless of where they are in the UK, they’re  _there_  for eachother.

And Ashton couldn’t possibly ask for more.

-

_My heart wants to come home_

_I wish I was,_

_I wish I was,_

_Beside you_


End file.
